Last Dance With Mary Janes
by Apeygirl
Summary: Season four's Exposed with a twist  of the ankle variety  And I hope you all forgive me if I skip all the intrigue and got right to the... other intrigue-of the more intriguing  read:smutty  variety.


Short summary: Season four's Exposed with a twist (of the ankle variety) And I hope you all forgive me if I skip all the intrigue and got right to the... other intrigue-of the more intriguing variety.

Oh... And can we ignore the fact that Clark's seeing Lana at this point for now?

Nothing but sweet, Chlarky smut here.

**Last Dance With Mary Janes**

"Lois, are you almost done?" Chloe stretched her legs on the chair in front of her. "You didn't have that much to put on."

"You know," Lois's voice said from behind the changing screen. "Remind me when all this is over to never ever ask a favor of you again."

"This isn't about me," she said to the screen. "This about getting to the truth." And maybe it was just a little fun to watch her cousin squirm.

Lois poked her head over the gilded screen. "Yeah, well, the last girl that knew the truth ended up as a hood ornament on someone's car."

Chloe frowned. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. But if management was busy watching the new girl, maybe she could get another peek in that office. It was just a quick pole dance. She wouldn't let anything happen to Lois. She was about to assure her of that when a slutty cowgirl sat next to her.

"Howdy," Chloe said trying a smile. The girl smiled back. Good sign. She leaned in, trying for that backstage bonding strippers were so famous for. "You know, my friend's really excited about working here, but I think it's kind of dangerous, especially after that girl was killed and everything."

The blonde's smile faded. "How can I explain this to you? Don't talk to me." She stood. "Don't talk to any of us."

Chloe blinked as she walked away. Well, she deserved that. She had made it up that strippers were famous for bonding, really.

"Well?" She turned to see Lois step out from the screen. Lois tried to laugh. "What do you think?"

Chloe, for her part, tried not to laugh. "All I can say is... God bless America."

Lois' hands went to her exposed midriff. "I.. I can't. There is no way. Why don't you do it? You're the one who had the dance classes."

Chloe stood and rolled her eyes. "One ballet class when I was seven does not make me a better candidate than you. You're the one with the..." Chloe gestured to her vaguely. "Tall, athletic thing... happening."

"Don't sell yourself short, Shorty." Lois smiled stiffly. "I'm sure you could..."

"Lois, please." She tugged on her cousin's hand. "Just give me some time to get in that office and..."

"Fine! But you just..."

"Hey!" Lois and Chloe both stiffened and turned. Were they found out? A woman with frizzy hair and a tape measure around her neck rushed forward. "Amber Waves?"

Chloe elbowed Lois. "That's you."

"Um... Yes?"

She held tossed a sailor hat and some sunglasses on the table. "That's for you. Don't screw up. We've been pimping that we got a new girl all night."

"Don't worry about it," Chloe laughed. "She's just raring to go."

The woman stared at Chloe. "Who are you? Are you even old enough to be here?"

Chloe tossed her hair back. "I'm older than I look. Besides, I'm her... choreographer."

"A choreographer?" The woman curled her lip upwards at Lois. "Well, aren't you fancy?" She strode away, pulling a cigarette from behind her ear. "Strippers getting awfully high and mighty nowadays," she muttered.

Chloe sighed in relief. "It's cool. We're cool." She turned Lois toward the stage. "Breathe."

Lois did so, looking out at the small stages and writhing women. "Uh, on second thought..."

She started to bolt, but Chloe caught her. "No, no, no, no, no." She held her gaze. "Thinking - bad. dancing - good." She looked back at the large bodyguard behind them. "Just ask Mr. Shoot-first, think-later over there. Now, I need you to dig deep down and find your inner Demi Moore."

Lois stared at her and sighed heavily. She stepped back. "Okay. Yeah." She started to turn. "You better at least use this distraction to find something about Meliss-OW!"

Chloe rushed forward, but Lois hit the floor. "Lois! Are you okay?"

"No," Lois groaned. "My ankle."

A small crowd, including the large man, formed around them. The frizzy woman, now with a cigarette hanging from her lips, pushed through. "Oh, great." She nodded to Lois. "What's her problem?"

The slutty cowgirl rolled her eyes. "New girl can't walk, apparently."

"God damned heels." Lois hissed in a breath and straightened her leg. "I kind of hate you right now, Chloe."

"Oh, come on." Chloe held Lois' ankle, prodding it slightly. "I think it's just a sprain." She patted Lois' shoulder. "You'll be okay." She looked up at the faces above them. "She'll be okay."

The woman snorted. "Like I care. She can't dance like that."

Chloe stood, incensed. "I think you're missing the point. She happens to be hurt."

The woman squared off with her. "No, Missy. You're missing the point. Management advertised new blood tonight." She looked Chloe up and down. "And our customers always get what they paid for." She pulled a french maid forward. "Doris? You're on early." She took Chloe's arm. "You? Come with me."

"What?" Chloe pulled, but the woman tightened her grip.

"You're a choreographer," she sneered. "Time to step into the spotlight. Someone just got her big break."

Chloe barely had time to protest before she was being pulled to the back. She twisted around. "Lois! Tell her! I can't..."

Lois turned to smirk at her. "Look who's finding her inner Demi now."

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

"Here you go."

"Thank you." Clark sat quickly, trying not to look at all the half-naked women around him.

"You're welcome. Have a good evening."

No sooner had the man left than a blonde in a leather sailor suit placed a napkin on his table. "Hey, handsome. What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a coke..." He winced slightly and deepened his voice. "S-straight up on the rocks."

He sighed as she walked away and loosened his tie. He was nervous enough being here, add in the sea of scantily clad girls and he was... very uncomfortable. He shifted slightly in his seat as a loud voice boomed throughout the club as the song changed.

"Gentlemen, let's give Colette a nice au revoir." He peeked at the girl sashaying away. He hadn't thought French maid outfits could be made even more revealing. The voice deepened. "And now making her first Windgate appearance, welcome to the stage, Sally Angel." A familiar string of "na-na-nas" started up as a silhouette appeared... appeared to be pushed in front of the lights.

Clark recognized the song-J. Geils' Band's "Angel is a Centerfold." He wasn't too surprised to see a schoolgirl that sort of... stumbled from the curtain. He saw a ponytail, glasses, a small pile of books in her hand, a tight skirt, a pink sweater and... Chloe's face.

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

"Does she walk? Does she talk?" J. Geils inquired. Apparently not. Chloe could hardly move. She just stood nearly frozen in her high-heeled mary-janes, looking at the bevy of men who were obviously expecting something. It felt like a year as she stood there, staring out. But J. Geils had only just asked if "she comes complete" when Chloe prodded herself into movement. She had to keep eyes on her. If Lois was going to hobble into that office, then she had to keep up her end.

She swayed her hips slightly, gripping the books in one arm and the pole in the other.

_My homeroom homeroom angel always pulled me from my seat.  
>She was pure like snowflakes, no one could ever stain...<em>

She swung around once and stopped, looking over her shoulder. Someone whooped in the back and she smiled slightly. This was... not that hard. She could do this. She'd seen Flashdance.

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

Clark swallowed hard as Chloe suddenly smiled.

_The memory of my angel could never cause me pain.  
>Years go by, I'm looking through a girlie magazine...<em>

She leaned back against the pole, still clutching the books as she let a leg bend up, running her knee up the pole. The slit in her skirt parted.

_And there's my homeroom angel on the pages in between._

She stepped forward, spread her legs, and rolled her hips once... twice. Then tossed her books down.

_My blood runs cold..._

Clark jumped slightly as she bent forward, then jerked back up, her hair now loose, the glasses gone. The crowd roared.

_My memory has just been sold. My angel is a centerfold. Angel is a centerfold.  
><em>  
>She pulled at the other side of the skirt, revealing another slit as she undulated to the repeat, still dressed, but so damned... Clark really wanted to look away if he could just make his eyes leave her. This was Chloe!<p>

_Slipping notes, under the desk  
>While I was thinking about her dress.<br>_  
>She pulled at the sweater and it parted. Something silky underneath, lacey... His body leaned forward without his permission.<br>_  
>I was shy, I turned away, before she caught my eye.<br>I was shakin' in my shoes whenever she flashed those baby blues._

He was transfixed as she swung around the pole again, this time with assurance, her legs displayed for the crowd.

_Something had a hold on me when Angel passed close by.  
>Those soft fuzzy sweaters, too magical to touch.<br>To see her in that negligee is really just too much.  
><em>  
>He jumped slightly as she threw the sweater off completely. She winked to the crowd as the skirt followed, ripping away as the chorus repeated and... She was in a negligee.<p>

A black, baby-doll negligee.

"Oh, Jesus..."

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv  
><strong>  
>By the second round of "na-na-nas," she had it down. It probably didn't hurt that she loved this song. It was oddly... exhilarating. All these years, she felt like an ugly duckling. Now? She was a video vixen. Straight out of the eighties. Maybe they'd keep her on for a round of Van Halen's "Hot For Teacher."<p>

Maybe not, but still...

_It's okay, I understand.  
>This ain't no never-never land.<br>I hope that when this fish is gone,  
>I'll see you when your clothes are on.<br>_  
>She took a few more swings around the pole and strode forward, swishing her hips all the way down the apron of the stage. Tossing her hair, looking at all those men. They were all looking at her. Even Clark was... Clark?<p>

_A part of me has just been wrecked  
>The pages from my mind are stripped<br>Oh no, I can't deny it  
>Oh yeah, I guess I got to buy it.<br>_  
>A half of a verse just went by with no movement, but... Clark was looking at her. She shrugged slightly and tried to smile. He pulled at his collar and looked away, then back.<p>

She gazed out at the others. She might be more than a little mortified, but just this once, she pushed those insecurities away. She still had to finish her first and last exotic dance. She turned and sashayed to the back again. She spun once and skipped forward to the fading "na-na-nas."

Someone yelled "Bravo!"

The announcer's voice boomed out again. "Oh, yeah! I'd teach her a thing or two! Give it up for our little schoolgirl! And now let's give a good homegrown welcome - to Dixie!"

She stepped down, making a bee-line for Clark. "It's not what you think," she hissed. The owner stepped into her line of vision and she smiled. "Slight change of plans."

The man looked her up and down. "Not a problem."

She smiled again and ran a hand over Clark's shoulder. The owner moved away and she bent down to Clark. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He leaned away slightly. "Stripping?"

"It was supposed to be Lois," she whispered, shaking her head. "But she hurt herself and she couldn't strip."

"Uh-huh." He leaned back further, searching the ceiling. "And why did anyone have to strip?"

"Clark, there's no time to be squeamish. We're following a murder story."

"Yeah, well, me too. But..." His eyes fell on her again. "Could you put something on?"

She rolled her eyes and caught several pairs of eyes on her, including that of a smartly dressed man talking to the owner. Clark may not think so, but at least some of these guys found her attractive. The owner said something to the man and glanced at her again. She quickly looked at Clark. "Clark, just... play along." She quickly sat in Clark's lap. He started.

"Chloe!"

"Stop acting like your aunt just goosed you." She smiled and snaked her arms around his neck. "Give me some money."

"But..."

"I'll give it back." She batted her eyes. "Come on. Pretend you're attracted to me for five seconds or someone's going to catch on."

He gave her a conflicted look and pulled some bills from his pocket. He peeled one off, his arms stiff and closed off. She noticed he did his best not to even brush against her. "Here."

She looked at the bill. "A dollar? Clark, I can't give you a lapdance for a dollar."

Clark's eyes widened. "A lapdance?"

"Jeez!" She took a twenty from the bottom of his wad and quickly shoved it down her bodice. "Okay." She stood, putting a leg on either side of him. "None of the girls are talking," she whispered, rolling her hips from side to side. She shimmied slightly and leaned down. He turned his head. "Since the owner's out here, I have Lois looking through the office and..." Chloe grasped his face and forced it to her. "Clark, I will never ask this of you again but... Will you please just ogle my breasts or something?"

"Okay," he squeaked, then cleared his throat. "So..." He stared at her breasts as asked, swallowing hard. "If Lois is supposed to be in the office, then... Why is she over there?" He nodded to the left.

Chloe jerked her head to the side. Lois was next to an angry looking brunette holding a badge. She was striding forward, dragging Lois along to a chorus of "ow-ow-ow-my-ankle-ow."

"Everybody freeze!" a man yelled out. Chloe jumped away from Clark, landing half-on the table.

He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad that the cops were there. On the one hand, he was under the drinking age and in a bar. On the other... anything to distract him from the undulating girl. He didn't know if he could take much more of that before he... _What? Chloe is your best friend. Chloe is your best friend. Chloe is..._

"Metropolis P.D.!" the woman called out. "Everybody take it easy! We have a report of minors working and being served in this establishment. We will be interviewing you individually. Please have your I.D.'s ready."

"What do we do?" Chloe asked.

Clark pulled her behind him quickly. "Well, one of us should get dressed," he hissed back at her.

She slapped his shoulder. "Would you stop acting like such a granny?"

"Stop dressing like such a stripper and maybe..."

She moved around to face him. "Honestly! I happen to be investigating a murder and if that means a stint in lingerie, then..."

"Well, well, well." Chloe turned and Clark looked over her shoulder. He'd nearly forgotten the woman holding Lois by the arm. She raised an eyebrow at Chloe. "Nice get-up. Does it come with an ID?"

"Um..."

"And you..." She squinted at Clark. "Don't I know you?"

Clark laughed nervously. "I'm just here from out of town."

"Uh-huh." She reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. "All the way from Smallville High?"

Chloe stepped forward again. "Officer, there really is a good explanation..."

"Save it," she barked. "You three are about to..."

"I've been trying to tell you!" Lois suddenly jumped forward, then winced. "We're investigating murder. The scumbag is here somewhere. The girl with the whip pointed him out! I swear..." She looked around. "That guy! Get him!" No one moved and she stumbled forward and grabbed a man with reddish hair.

"Excuse me?" The man pulled his arm, but Lois pulled back.

She turned to Sawyer. "This piece of Euro-trash has been whisking girls away and they're never heard from again! He's the one you should be arresting. He..."

"Miss Lane," the woman sighed. "You can let Mr. Lyon go."

"What? But I swear, he's..."

She pulled Lois back. "We're... aware of his activities." She looked down. "But as a consulate guest in our country, Mr. Lyon can't be arrested or tried for any crime he commits on our soil."

Chloe looked from the cop to the smirking man. "But that's just..."

"Diplomatic immunity, Kitten," the man said, leering. Clark pulled her behind him. People just didn't leer at Chloe. "Detective Sawyer's right. It's a shame I don't have more time to explain it at great length to you and your..." He ogled Lois. "Your friend."

Lois grimaced and stepped further away. Sawyer stepped in front of her. "Get out of here, Lyon. I may not be able to touch you with the law, but that doesn't mean I can't arrange for five minutes alone with you in a windowless room."

"And I thought I wasn't your type, Sawyer." He smirked again and walked away, an equally creepy bald man in tow.

Clark's eyes narrowed. "So... he can just go?"

"My hands are tied." The woman, Detective Sawyer, said bitterly. She released Lois' arm. "You three... Just... Get out of my sight. I'll let this be a warning." She glared at each of them. "But next time you feel like playing Cagney, Lacey, and..." she glanced at Clark's suit, "bank manager, just... Keep out of my precinct." She turned and her men followed. "Let the damn grown-ups do their job," she threw over her shoulder.

Clark stood between one girl in black baby doll lingerie and another in a sparkly sailor suit, after having watched a lady killer walk away from all punishment. When did his life get so surreal?

"Grown-ups?" Lois almost shrieked when she was out of sight. "The grown-ups just let the guy go. What if he goes after another girl?"

"He won't," Chloe said firmly. "Just because they can't touch him here, doesn't mean no one can." Clark watched her chew on her lower lip. That meant she was plotting something. It also made his collar feel tight again

"At least he'll go. To think he could have gone on with no consequences." Lois shook her head. "Just emptying this place out. Anyone could have been next. Danica or Kelly or Beth-Anne... and she's still in college, for crying out loud."

Chloe turned to her. "You all buddies now?"

She shrugged. "We bonded over heels. Oh! And we all agree you kicked some pole ass."

"You saw?"

"Everybody saw," Clark muttered. He took his jacket off with jerky movements. "And some of us would like to stop... seeing. Here." He tossed his jacket at her. "Would you just put something on?"

Chloe gaped at him. "If I disgust you so much, then fine."

"That's not the point," he said angrily. "Chloe, you were... stripping!"

"Only down to lingerie." She pulled the jacket on. "It was hardly even a PG-13."

"Totally." Lois stumbled over and put her arm around Chloe's shoulders. "Don't listen to him, Chloe. You were like a video vixen."

"That's what I thought."

Clark followed sullenly as they walked toward the exit.

"You so should have done Whitesnake, though."

"Do you think? It's too slow on the verses for anything really..."

He couldn't believe they could be so casual about this. _Chloe had taken her clothes off. Chloe had undulated to eighties music. Chloe had..._

He found himself at her car. He watched Chloe help Lois in. He didn't want to look down, but... A thong? "That's it. You need to put pants on now."

Chloe turned to him slowly. "Clark, I am not going back in there."

The jacket was open. He could still see the gauzy negligee. He stepped forward and closed it. "Well, just..."

She laughed. "I get it, Clark. Really. You're uncomfortable with seeing me... dance." She placed a hand on his arm. "But we've been through crazier things and... You need to stop."

He shrugged her hand off. "Stop what?"

"Stop treating me like a fallen woman. How about that?" She folded her arms. "I never thought you'd be so judgmental."

"I'm not judgmental."

"Provincial, then."

Lois poked her head out of the car. "Oh-and he's a bad dresser."

Clark rolled his eyes at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing. Can we go now? I want three advils and a bed, for Christ's sake." She leaned back in her seat.

Chloe sighed and closed Lois' door. "You'll have to get in back on my side." She moved around to the driver's side. She opened the door and waited. "Are you coming?"

"No."

She closed her door and moved back to Clark. "Is this because you can go faster running or because you're sulking like an overgrown toddler."

"Pick one," he muttered, turning. He waited until he turned the corner before speeding off. Only moments after, he wished he hadn't.

He was an ass. He was such an ass.

**SVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSVSV**

Chloe let herself into The Talon and started up the stairs. She adjusted Clark's suit jacket over her arm. She'd return it tomorrow. She might even mail it to him, the way he was behaving. And just because she'd done what she had to for her story.

And she had a story, alright. It was sitting on Kahn's desk, should she choose to print it. Either way, it was a night well-spent. Still, her feet were killing her. She'd rushed to The Planet after dropping Lois at her dorm, only stopping to throw on a long coat. She climbed the stairs slowly, feeling the ache in her feet, ankles, calves, thighs... pick a body part and it ached. She blamed the shoes. She'd think strippers would have shoes that took things like arch support into consideration. The damned mary janes pinched or prodded everywhere they touched.

She leaned against the door and dug out Lois' key. Lois wouldn't mind if she spent the night in her new, not-quite-lived-in apartment. She was already snoring in Chloe's dorm with Lana. Chloe had thought of going back there after The Planet, but she didn't look forward into squeezing into a single with her cousin or camping out on the floor. Besides, she'd wanted the drive. She'd wanted to think.

And what about? Clark-as usual. Even though she'd long given up hope on him, at least of the romantic kind, she still cared what he thought of her. She probably cared more than she should. She knew he was just acting childish and that he'd get over it eventually. But she should probably make him grovel. She could always hold his jacket ransom.

She smiled as she unlocked the door, envisioning ransom notes made with letters from magazines and buttons sent with them. She patted the coat. It actually still had his wallet. Even better. "Looks like someone's in trouble," she whispered.

"Damn right."

She whirled around, a hand on her heart. "Clark! You idiot, you..."

He flicked on a lamp. "Where the hell were you? It's been five hours."

"I had to go to The Planet." She quickly tossed his jacket behind her. There was still time for ransom.

He took in her long coat. She noted the relief in his eyes. Sure. Rub it in. "Well, I called your cell about a hundred times," he said, his brows drawn together. "And where's Lois?"

"I dropped her at my dorm room. She didn't want to take a long ride."

"So why are you here?"

She shrugged and placed the keys on top of a closed box. "I did." She turned and folded her arms. "I left my cell back at the dorm. But gee, Dad, I'm real sorry. It'll never happen again."

"That's not funny." He sat on an upside-down milk crate. Every surface was still covered with boxes. Lois wasn't known for her timely housework. "I was worried."

She rolled her eyes and moved to the sofa, moving a pile of bedding over. "Could have fooled me, the way you were acting. What are you even doing here? Why aren't you at home writing sermons or embroidering scarlet A's for me to wear."

He sighed and leaned over, studying his hands. "I came to apologize."

"And?"

"I'm sorry," he said, his head bowed.

She leaned forward. "Could you repeat that? And louder? And maybe fifty more times?"

He looked up, giving her a half-smile. "I just... I was uncomfortable with you taking off your clothes in front of a bunch of horny guys. It bugged me."

She didn't say anything, just kept staring expectantly.

He took a deep breath. "And I acted like a total jerkwad and I should probably buy your coffee for the next week."

She tilted her head to the side.

"Or two," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm. You might have just earned your jacket back."

He stood. "Is my wallet in there? Because I've kind of been freaking out."

She stood and hobbled over to the set of boxes near the door. She turned and tossed it at him.

"Thanks."

"No problem." She winced and hobbled back to the couch.

He tossed the jacket aside. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." She plopped down and reached over. "After I dispose of these evil shoes. Who the hell thought of putting a four inch heel on a mary jane?" She leaned over and pulled at the strap. "F*cking buckle." She looked up. "Oh, so sorry. Did my language offend you? You pick these vulgarities up when you're a pole-dancing lady of the night."

"Shut up." He chuckled and knelt down, taking her foot. "I'll get your f*cking buckle."

She leaned back. "Ooh, Reverend Kent. What will the concerned mothers of Smallville say?"

He dropped her foot. "Fine."

"No, no. Get the damn thing off." She laid her head back, grinning. "Sorry, just... I can't help it. You were such a maiden aunt in there. It's like you have something against it."

He shrugged and picked up her foot again. "It's not that. I was just... It was awkward."

She sighed. "I know. Seeing me that way was probably a little taboo for you. Something like seeing your sister naked."

"Not exactly." He freed one foot and dropped the shoe.

"I don't know, then. Like just... someone you aren't attracted to that you're forced to see in a sexual way."

"That's not it, either." He liberated the other.

"Well, then... like..." He had not let go of her ankle. "Um... the..." His fingers encircled it, rubbing lightly.

"Seeing you in that way... It's not something I let happen. But there you were and I just..."

She lifted her head. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring at her calves. The trench coat was open to just past the knees. "Clark..."

His fingers skated halfway up her calf, then back to her ankle. "You're my best friend, Chloe." He suddenly stopped his movements and dropped her leg. "Which is why I should go."

She watched wide-eyed as he stood and turned. "Whoa." She stood. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." She ran to the door and pressed back against it. "You are not leaving."

"Chloe..."

"You can't just say something like that and leave."

"What do you want to do? Talk about it?" he demanded, his eyes hard. "Even you don't want to have this conversation, Chloe."

"Why don't you leave that up to me." She flipped the bolt behind her.

"No. We're not... We don't..." His mouth worked soundlessly a moment. "I'm leaving."

"Fine." She smiled. "Don't forget your jacket."

He turned to pick it up and she worked quickly, undoing the sash and letting her trench coat slide to the floor.

He straightened. "Chloe, you'll thank me later when..." He stopped mid-turn, dropping his own jacket to the floor.

She leaned against the door, arching her back slightly. "Go on, Clark. Finish that thought."  
><strong><br>**

Clark wasn't sure what the thought had been. It possibly had to do with him leaving. He wasn't sure he should now.

Actually, he was positive he should. It was just that his feet weren't cooperating. Other parts of him felt inclined to stay as well.

"I don't think you get it, Clark," Chloe said in a voice he'd only heard in fantasies guiltily indulged late at night. "I really want to talk."

He closed his eyes. A least they were with the program. "Chloe, please..."

"And I want you to look at me, Clark." He could hear her moving closer. Her rapid heartbeat in stark contrast with the cool determination in her voice. He opened his eyes. She was right in front of him. "Sit down, Clark," she said, her voice slightly choked.

And he saw it. There was fear in her eyes. It was oddly comforting considering he was scared out of his wits right now. These feelings... He didn't let them surface. She was too important to look at in that way. But here she was in a sheer negligee and bare feet. And vulnerable. And he couldn't deny her this. He moved backward, prompted by a gentle push. He felt the couch on the back of his knees and he sank down, waiting...

"What do you see, Clark?"

"You," he breathed. "More of you than I'm used to seeing." And he'd seen her in a bathing suit. One more revealing than this. But this... It was bedtime wear. It brought to mind bedtime things.

"And... How does that make you feel?" she asked softly, looking down at him.

"Scared. Strange."

She swallowed. "Elaborate?"

"Warm," he said truthfully. He rubbed his hands on his pant legs. "Sweaty on my palms and..." He felt himself straining against his zipper. His collar was damn near-choking him, though he'd long ago lost the tie and unbuttoned it. "Tight everywhere."

"I see." She ran a finger along her décolletage. "Any impulses? Urges?"

Was she kidding? "I want to grab you," he breathed, his eyes glued to her body.

"And then?"

He met her eyes, though his were nearly closed. "You know what happens then, Chloe."

She nodded, her hand falling to her side. "Okay. I just wanted to be clear." She stepped aside. "You can go now."

He stood, taking a step forward. He could go. He could walk out that door and pretend this conversation never happened.

Instead, he did what he'd wanted to do since he first recognized her on that gaudy stage. He grabbed. "Not a chance," he growled, flattening his hand on her back.

****sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv****

Chloe had to admit. This had seemed possible from the moment he'd touched her ankle. But she would have settled for less. She needed to hear him say it-that he wanted her. She could take that to bed at night, if not him.

Of course, having him, she was sure that knowledge would not be enough. The minute his lips crashed to hers, she knew there was no way she was doing without this again. And maybe he was right. Maybe this was something to be afraid of. Because this could not be swept under a rug. This was actually happening. There was no going back from this.

And she didn't care. For the first time, she felt the power in her body. She couldn't bend a crowbar or melt a glacier, but she could bring this super-human to his knees. She'd best use her powers for good.

Kissing him back was good. It was a giving thing. Taking that hand that was splayed on her back and sliding it to her bottom. That worked, too.

She squeaked slightly into his mouth as he tightened his grip and lifted, one hand in her hair, the other holding her against him, her feet dangling below her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he moved forward. She hadn't stopped to think if Lois had her bed set up.

She gasped and opened one eye as Clark stumbled with her through the door, his mouth latched on her neck now. A bed. With rumpled bedding. She suspected she'd be doing laundry tomorrow. Maybe she and Clark could do it together. Did The Talon's laundry room have a lock?

She gripped his hair as he laid her down. "This is really happening," she panted.

He lifted his head and touched her cheek lightly. "I know." His gaze fell to her negligee. He ran his fingers over the silky ribbon just under her breasts.

"God... Just take it off."

"I'll ruin it," he said, fingering the lace at her neckline.

She leaned up on her elbows. "So?"

He shrugged, his face red. "I kind of... want you to keep it."

She smiled. It was a woman's smile. She could feel it. It was the smile of knowledge and power. She sat up and pulled him to the side. He landed on his back with a soft whoosh of breath as she rose from the bed.

She turned, one corner of her mouth quirking up as she grasped the hem. "You want me to take it off gently?"

He made a slight movement. She suspected he was trying to nod.

"Slowly?"

"Not too slowly," he said, licking his lips.

She lifted the hem to her stomach, revealing the lace front of her panties. These didn't belong to the club. They were all hers. "Wanna hear something crazy?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "I liked it, Clark." She gently bunched and lifted it past her bra. Not hers, really. It belonged to the club. But they had got a free performance out of her. The clothes were fair trade. "Those men were looking at me." She lifted the flimsy negligee over her head and dropped it to the floor. "Me, Clark. And then... there you were. You were looking."

He sat up, inching to the edge of the bed. "I'm still looking." He grasped her hips and pulled her to stand between his legs. "I'm not sure I can stop." He bent his head to her stomach and let his lips slide back and forth across her navel. "God, Chloe..."

Her head fell back as his lips found her hip bone. Was this forever? Maybe not. But they were here now. And, after all these years, she had Clark's full attention. She ran her fingers through his hair and past his neck, sliding into the back of his shirt and over the muscles in his shoulders. She kneaded lightly. He was tense. She knew the feeling. All of her nerve-endings were screaming for attention and she wished he could touch everywhere at once.

But there were a few places screaming loudest. She abandoned his back and brought her hands instead to her own back, searching for the clasp of her bra, gasping when he nibbled lightly at her waist. She watched her bra slide to his head and fall out of sight. "Clark," she whispered.

He lifted his head. She didn't have to tell him. He lifted his hands to her breasts, cupping and caressing underneath.

"All this time," she whispered. "I just never thought I was... anything."

He gazed up at her and his lips found her nipple. He didn't have to say anything. She could feel it in the near-reverent way his hands slid to her back as he sucked. She was everything now. She threw her head back and reveled in it. She was all that was desirable, kissable, touchable, lickable. She was a f*cking woman and, for the first time, she felt it.

She'd had sex before. It was awkward, fumbling caresses followed by a stinging burn that only served to remind her what a kid she really was. But now...

She ripped his hands away and pushed him back on the bed. This wasn't some first time. This wasn't some random encounter just to get it over with, see what the fuss was about. She would know after this night. She was going to find out all about that fuss. She felt a throbbing deep down. This night, she would be Eve. She'd taste the apple. And she'd know.

She opened his shirt, revealing him button by button. She pulled it apart and feasted with her eyes. She pulled lightly and he got the message, rising up slightly so she could reveal all of that skin. She wanted to feel it on hers. She laid herself over him, gasping as she felt his chest against her breasts.

His hips surged up and she felt more of him, pressing into her at so nearly the right spot. She spread her legs and pressed down. He did it again. "Chloe..."

She found herself mesmerized by his adam's apple. She pressed her lips to it and thought again of Adam and Eve. First man, first woman. After they ate of the tree, they realized they were naked. It was never told what happened after. But she had an inkling.

She licked and he gasped. She brought her hands up to trace his nipples and he moaned. She'd never felt so heady with power. It could be habit-forming. She slid down his body, taking in every breath that left his mouth.

She stopped when her knees hit the floor. His still-clothed legs hung half-off the bed and she slid her hands down them, removing his shoes at the end. Even his socks. The idea of sex in socks was just a little silly. This night may have started off a bit silly, but there was nothing to laugh at now. This was dead serious. She quickly worked at his belt, his button, his zipper. The rasp of cloth against his skin as she pulled down. made her shiver slightly. She saw a hint of skin through the slit in his boxers. She reached, almost mesmerized.

He suddenly caught her hand and sat up. He grasped her waist and pulled her up. "No, Chloe... Not yet... It's too..." He suddenly growled and rolled her over. She had to admit, the extreme hotness of that move distracted her from any embarrassment she might have felt as he pulled her panties down in those lightning-quick moves she'd only seen in heroic endeavors. And there she was. Naked. Fully naked.

If she'd had time, she might have made a move to cover herself. As it was, his head was between her legs in half of a heartbeat. That was when all beats stopped-and started up again in double time. Because he was doing something she'd only seen late at night on that Showtime show where Mulder read letters and very-nearly-good actors indulged in simulated soft-core.

She was so sensitive now that even his eager, uncalculated nuzzlings made it sing. As humiliating as she thought this would be-a man's mouth where only her fingers had ever been-now that he was there, she was in no hurry for him to leave. And she wanted him to get this right-just right.

"Clark," she moaned, glancing down her stomach. "Higher."

His eyes bore into hers as he obeyed. She vaguely wondered if she'd be embarrassed later, having just out and told him what to do. But, as his tongue pressed roughly at the underside, she doubted it.

And why should she be embarrassed? She wasn't a girl anymore. She was a woman now. A woman knew what she wanted. And this night was about what she wanted. After five years, Clark Kent's mouth was between her legs, giving her exactly what she wanted. She'd take it. She'd take it and she wouldn't be sorry.

His fingers dug into her hips, holding them still as they were showing a tendency to buck upwards. She grasped his hair, shoulders, neck, anywhere her hands could find purchase. His tongue kept pushing before it...

"Oh, God..."

It started swirling around. That was even better. And just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he sucked... hard.

He still held her hips on the bed, but the rest of her flailed, her back arching off the bed, her hands nearly ripping the sheets from the mattress, and her heart beating so hard she thought it would break her ribs.

"Clark," she whispered, limp and exhausted. "I think I get it now."

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

Clark wasn't sure what she was talking about, but he knew what he'd just witnessed. He'd never exactly witnessed it before, even with Lana. That was an orgasm. A bona-fide female orgasm. And he felt the odd urge to preen suddenly. Chloe came and it was all because of him. He wondered if he could see that every day. He definitely wouldn't mind.

He slid up her body, which hadn't moved yet. He was half-afraid he'd broke her. "Chloe?"

She smiled, her eyes still closed. "All those movies... people moaning and carrying on and... I never got it." She opened her eyes. They were dark and a little sleepy. "I mean, it's good by yourself, but... Clark, you just... Wow."

He grinned. "I think I get it." There was something between them, something that intensified every sensation.

Know what's the best part?" She hooked a leg over his hip and he was suddenly reminded that parts of him were about to burst. "It's not over."

"Chloe, are you sure?" he asked, desperately afraid the answer might not be yes.

"Never been surer." She smiled. "Or more sure. My brain can't pick which."

He would have laughed, but he was too busy practically ripping his boxers off. And here it was. That moment. He was poised at her entrance and there was no going back now.

Her eyes slid closed.

"No, Chloe," he breathed. "Look at me."

She did and he saw wonder and want and it was so f*cking beautiful, he wanted to stay poised on the brink forever. But he wouldn't. It was a brink for a reason. Someone had to jump off.

And he did, pushing forward, shaking with need. And she swallowed him, gripped him, cradled him. There was a word for this: home. He pulled away and pushed home again. She gasped and he suddenly realized that someone had been here before. And it hadn't been him. But he'd been with someone, too. What did it matter now? They were here now.

He planted his hands on either side of her and rose up, gaining leverage, stroking in and out faster and her gasps turned to moans. He concentrated on that, her responses, her body that tensed, her insides that clenched. This was for her. Because he'd never told her what she was-how sexy, how soft, how unbelievably... No. Not perfect. Lana was perfect. Chloe was real. Chloe was warm under him and wet around him and damp against him. Lana didn't sweat. If she did, it probably would smell like vanilla body spray, not like warm, wet woman.

There was an almost silly sound of bellies slapping against each other as she started lifting against him. He wanted it all to distract him, just for a moment. He wanted this to last for her. He wanted her to come again. "Came for me," he panted. "So f*cking beautiful..."

She met his eyes and grasped the hands planted at her sides.

There was no plan now. Just sounds and touch as he plunged inside again and again, feeling the end coming. He wanted it. He dreaded it. "Not over," he gasped. "You have to..."

He didn't get to finish that thought. She suddenly arched upward, her neck curving back as she tightened around him. His name fell from her lips on a whimper.

His eyes were drawn to the spot where her neck and shoulder met. His lips followed as he thrust in, his entire body tightening, tensing until... His mouth feel slack against her as, with a few disjointed thrusts, he fell on her. He spilled himself inside, feeling almost a keen loss that it was over.

He drifted off, still limp over her. His last thought was that it wasn't over. Not if it started again... and again...

**sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv sv**

Chloe woke to bright sunlight and a strange sensation on her neck. Breath. She looked over her shoulder, remembering the night. She'd never woke with a guy before. Apparently, Clark was hands-on, even in his sleep. The hand that wasn't cupping her breast was wrapped around her waist from underneath. He'd probably have pins and needles if she didn't move.

She moved away slightly and turned over, wondering if Clark could even get pins and needles. She'd have to ask him.

But later. For now, she just wanted to look at him. She'd watched him sleep before. He'd been sick and she, idiot that she'd been, had decided to use that opportunity to read him an extremely heartfelt letter. It had been one of the most hurtful moments of her life and he didn't even know it had happened. She remembered it so clearly. She'd brushed his hair from his face and he'd stirred in his sleep and spoke Lana's name.

Could she forgive him if the same thing happened now? She stared at his full lips, strong chin, the long eyelashes that were just no fair on a man. Last night, he'd seemed powerful, strong. But now... he looked like more of a boy than a man.

She smiled. Yes. She'd forgive him. She'd forgive Clark anything. That was the hardest thing about loving Clark. It was damn near impossible to stop. She absently reached forward and brushed a curl from his forehead. He stirred slightly. A sort of dread swept through her as his mouth opened...

"Chloe?" She stared at him, letting out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding. He opened his eyes. "You okay?"

She gave him a bright smile and smoothed his hair again. "Never better."

He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. "It's early. You need more rest."

"Why's that?"

"You have work. Nine pm show in my loft." He opened his eyes and grinned like a fool. "This one's private."

She laughed. "So you want me to be your private dancer?"

He kissed her neck. "I tip well."

"Yeah. I saw all your dollar bills." She lifted her head to allow him more access. "I don't know if this is the job for me."

"Excellent benefits," he whispered into her neck.

"Such as?"

He kissed his way down her stomach. "Allow me to outline our competitive package."

She giggled as he moved down her body and pulled the sheet over his head.

"I accept," she whispered some time later.

**The End**

Ah. There! Another one-shot posted. I have more ready. Upon finding interest, I'll post them and then some of my longer fics :)


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